


Nothing Good

by BoxOnTheNile



Series: No Heaven [1]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games), Red vs. Blue
Genre: Background Chex - Freeform, Background Grimmons, Background Pastrytrain, Borderlands Fusion, F/M, M/M, Multi, RvB Centric, Trans Male Character, and references the plot of the games, but you don't need a whole lot of knowledge of the games to read it, does have borderlands characters though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-05-15 08:56:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14787414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoxOnTheNile/pseuds/BoxOnTheNile
Summary: He thought he saw movement in the corner of his eye, but the cliff face was deserted. “Just a stalker,” he said to himself, but his heart was pounding. “Assholes turn invisible, it’s fine, calm the fuck down, Lavernius.”“Tucker?” Caboose called.“Yeah, I’m coming,” he yelled back, and stepped inside. He was fine, he wasfine, there was no one there. His secret was safe a little while longer.At the top of the ravine, a figure slipped from the shadows and watched Valhalla close its doors.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I fucking love Borderlands and I will revive this dead fandom my damn self. (It's only really dead if you don't ship rhack and I DON'T.)
> 
> I don't even know what how to refer to this, tbh?? It's rvb characters on Pandora but also the Borderlands characters are there in the background? Some even have speaking parts? Handsome Jack is the first villain? It's a mess I love it.

The man came to Overlook in the middle of the Pandoran night cycle, accepted every mission on their bounty board, and disappeared again.

“He was weird,” Karima warned Tucker as she handed him the supplies he'd requested. “He didn't have any guns on him.”

That made Tucker wary. There were only two kinds of people on Pandora who don't carry guns: idiots, or people who can kill you without one.

“Thanks, Karima,” he said, and counted out the money he owed her. He shot a glare over his shoulder at a catcall. “I'm gonna kill Dave one of these days, hand to god. I don't wear a binder _once_ -”

“I'm sorry,” Karima apologized, like every other time Tucker traded with her. He waved off the apology, like usual, and slung the bag over his shoulder.

Caboose was waiting at the entrance to Overlook- he can't bring Freckles past the gate. “He called you names again,” Caboose said, frowning. “He's mean.”

“Very mean,” Tucker agreed. He passed Caboose the bag and started down the cliff. “Hey, Caboose, coast clear?”

“Freckles, is there any strangers nearby?”

The skag whuffed and ran two tight circles around them. “No,” Caboose reported.

Tucker stripped off his gloves and shook out his hands with a grimace. The Highlands were at the tail end of their dry season, so it was hot and humid, and his palms were damp with sweat. Tucked away in Valhalla, he could spend most his time in boxers and a tank top, but he didn't have that luxury outside, where he wrapped in gloves and scarves and long sleeved shirts.

Caboose reached to take his hand, and he let him. Caboose was like that, always wanting to touch someone. He liked to talk, too, about the progress in the greenhouse, about what Freckles tried to drag into the Outpost that morning, about how he really didn't like people who were mean to Tucker.

Tucker squeezed his hand at that. Caboose was clingy after he'd been basically abandoned on his doorstep seven months ago by a Vault Hunter duo that heard about Valhalla from New Haven. Tucker had just stepped outside one morning to a big fucking skag and a bigger man. He’d almost shot the two of them, but Caboose had cheerfully announced that he lived there now, and that Grif and Simmons had said it was okay. Tucker had dragged him inside, gone straight to his ECHOcomm, and yelled at Grif for half an hour.

Still, Tucker was glad Caboose was there. Valhalla was lonely.

“We’re home,” Caboose said suddenly, bounding forward and pulling Tucker with him. Tucker let him guide them right up to the entrance, the metal doors built directly into the cliffside. Both looked expectantly at Freckles, who lowered down on his front paws and growled. “Safe,” Caboose translated, and Tucker trusted that Caboose understood his own dog. It looked sorta playful, he supposed.

Tucker pulled up his left sleeve as he moved to the side of the doors. He covered the keypad with his hand, and the teal marks curving across his skin lit up. He could _feel_ the doors, the circuits of the electronic lock, the generator powering both those things. He _wanted_ , and forced that longing into the lock, demanding it open.

With a loud, metallic groan, the doors of Valhalla Outpost One, once a great Atlas stronghold, began to open. Caboose bounded inside, going to drop off the supplies. Tucker tugged down his sleeve and started to follow, but stopped and whirled around.

He thought he saw movement in the corner of his eye, but the cliff face was deserted. “Just a stalker,” he said to himself, but his heart was pounding. “Assholes turn invisible, it’s fine, calm the fuck down, Lavernius.”

“Tucker?” Caboose called.

“Yeah, I’m coming,” he yelled back, and stepped inside. He was fine, he was fine, there was no one there. His secret was safe a little while longer.

At the top of the ravine, a figure slipped from the shadows and watched Valhalla close its doors.

 

* * *

 

Tucker poked his head into the greenhouse and dodged a tossed weed. “Hey Caboose, I'm gonna go check in with New Haven. Wanna see if Church left you a message with that cute boy you like?”

“Donut is very nice,” Caboose said defensively.

Tucker grinned. “Wasn't a dig, man. He's fuckin’ adorable, if you didn't have dibs I’d be flirting.”

Caboose chucked another weed at him. This time it hit, and Tucker made a disgusted noise as he brushed dirt off his face.

“Fine, fine, I know when I'm not wanted.”

“No, I'm coming!”

Tucker apparently wasn't fast enough, because Caboose swept him into his arms halfway to the long-range ECHO equipment. He dropped Tucker directly into the control chair, both of them giggling like children.

God, Tucker loved Caboose. The man was his best friend, the last pure thing on Pandora.

He flipped a few switches and grimaced at the high pitched connection sound. A couple seconds of static, then-

“Rat's Nest ECHOcomm tower, this is Simmons, how can I assist you?”

“Rat's Nest, this is Valhalla Outpost One attempting to connect to New Haven.”

“Tucker!” Simmons said brightly. “How are you?”

“I'm great now that you're here.” Tucker leaned towards the mic, winking playfully at Caboose. “What’chu wearing, baby?”

Simmons snorted. “Probably more than you.”

Tucker looked down at the black fabric covering almost every inch of his skin, at the scarf wrapped tight around his throat. “Yeah, probably.”

“Stop making moves on my husband.” There was a sound of a chair creaking. “Swear to god, I'm gonna start connecting you straight through to New Haven.”

“No, you won't,” Caboose told him. “You like checking in on me.”

“Heinous lies,” Grif deadpanned. “How's Valhalla?”

“We found strawberry seeds in the botany lab! They are growing very fast. Overlook still won't let Freckles inside.”

“Strawberries? Shit, you realize you can make a fortune off those, right?”

“Yep,” Tucker said. “I'm trying to get the digistruct bullshit up and running again so we can ship things to New Haven. I'll set some aside for you.”

“You're an angel,” Grif said. Tucker flinched, shoulders rolling back. He'd only ever summoned wings once, and didn't like the reminder.

“A real celestial being,” he agreed, hoping the discomfort stayed out of his voice. “We really do need to check in with New Haven, though.”

“Patching you through,” Simmons told them, and the ECHO whined again.

“For fuck’s sake, Lilith, no.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tucker replied immediately, “but I'm not Lilith.”

“Lavernius Tucker.” Helena Pierce, mayor of New Haven, sounded significantly less angry. “Sorry. Ever since those Hunters opened that damn Vault, they've been nothing but a headache.”

“Vault Hunters usually are. Just letting you know we're still alive, just like last week.”

“Hi Miss Pierce,” Caboose said. “Is Donut there?”

“Franklin is running a message to Nowhere today, I'm sorry.”

Caboose’s mood visibly fell. “Oh.”

Tucker reached over to wrap an arm around Caboose. “Alright, well, hopefully we’ll have good news on the digistruct whatever next time. See you later, Peirce, good luck with the Vault Hunters.”

“Fucking Sirens,” she muttered just before Tucker shut down the connection.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Fucking Sirens. The worst.”

Caboose pulled him into a hug. “I think Sirens are great.”

“You’re about the only one. C’mon, let’s go finish up in the greenhouse.” Caboose didn’t budge, just held tighter. “I’m fine, bud, it doesn’t bother me.”

“You’re lying, but it’s okay. Things can make you sad. That’s why you have friends!”

Tucker smiled a little and hugged him back. And for a second, things were alright.

Then the alarms went off, and Freckles started howling. Both of them scrambled to their feet, Tucker grabbing his pistol from where it sat on the console. They ran for the entrance.

A man dressed in grey and yellow stood inside the doors to Valhalla as they closed behind him. Tucker leveled his pistol at his head. The man turned, moving almost too fast to see, and the hilt of a knife slammed into the soft flesh of his wrist. He dropped the gun, and Caboose launched forward. The stranger used his momentum to throw Caboose over his hip and onto his back.

He looked at Tucker. The stranger’s eyes were wild, desperate, and he took a deliberate step towards him. “Siren,” he said, softly.

Tucker panicked. His marks flared, and he reacted, throwing his fist forward. There was a sickening _crack_ , and the stranger dropped like stone.

Caboose groaned as he picked himself up off the floor. “He’s _mean_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Need more info on Borderlands and Pandora? Try [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kOqYITR7DmA) youtube video. Pre-third game, but I won't be addressing the pre-sequel much as i still need to play it.
> 
> This installation of the au(that's right, there's more than one, motherfuckers) takes place right after the first game. 
> 
> I have so many notes, guys. Pages of notes. Save me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, a couple things before we get started! There's a lot of assumption of knowledge in this chapter, because it breaks the flow of narrative to explain SO we're gonna do it here real fast. Spoilers for, well, the first Borderlands game?
> 
> -There's several major corporations with personal armies. Charon would fit right in! Atlas, the one focused on in this fic, calls their army The Crimson Lance. The Lance invaded and seized Old Haven. They also keep and train assassins from childhood- possibly birth.
> 
> -Commandant Steele was a Siren. In her quest for the Vault, she shut down the ECHOnet for Pandora. Effectively, she controlled all information exchange in any form, from radio to the internet equivalent. She's also very dead.

Tucker paced the hall outside one of Valhalla's empty rooms. Well, it had been empty. Now it was holding the stranger.

He and Caboose had stripped the man of weapons. No guns, but the last count was twenty-two knives, including the one he threw at Tucker. He had the Atlas logo tattooed on the back of his neck.

Atlas assassins were only heard of in whispered horror stories. Now there was one locked up in Tucker's home.

Caboose was watching the assassin. Tucker wished he was less okay with that, but he was shaken to his core. This man knew what he was- one way or another, he couldn't leave Valhalla. He couldn't ask Caboose to do that. 

It wouldn't be the first time Tucker killed someone to keep himself safe. Didn't mean he had to like it.

There was shuffling inside the room. Tucker stopped pacing and pressed an ear to the door.

“Did they break my nose?” The assassin sounded almost offended.

“Yes.” Caboose answered him. “You're still wrong, though.”

“Still wrong?”

“He broke your nose.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“He already punched you so it's probably fine.”

Holy shit, was Caboose _making friends_?

“I'm Caboose!” _He was_. “Who are you?”

Silence, then, “Where is he? The Siren.”

“Yeah, see, he's scared of you? So he's maybe not gonna see you.”

More silence from the assassin. Caboose sighed very dramatically. “I can't be your friend if I don't know your name.”

“My friend?”

“Yes! If we're friends, then you're not a stranger anymore, and _then_ Tucker will stop being afraid and you can talk to him.”

Sweet mother of fuck, that was _manipulative_ , Caboose. Tucker understood how he survived Pandora so long. 

“...I’m Washington. He's afraid of me?”

“You broke into our house and threw a knife at him.”

“He tried to shoot me!”

“And now nobody is shooting anyone!”

Another extended silence. “Can I see him? What did you call him, Tucker?”

This was ridiculous. Tucker steeled himself and shoved up his left sleeve. He was a Siren, he could melt this assassin’s _brain_ if he wanted to. He shoved the door open and crossed his arms. “Talk fast.”

The assassin- Washington- stared at him, his eyes tracing the marks up to his elbow before flicking up to his face and- oh. He wasn't a bounty hunter. 

He was a _fanatic._

For every person looking to make a quick buck turning a Siren over to the highest bidder, there was another who saw them as goddesses. They were worse, in Tucker’s experience.

(He still couldn't stand small spaces, nearly twenty years later.)

There was borderline reverence in Washington’s face, but he spoke fast. “Atlas left. They left me. I thought I could… I don't know what I thought.”

Tucker’s thoughts came to a screeching halt. “I'm sorry, what? They _left_?”

Washington nodded. “The Vault was useless and Commandant Steele is dead. There's nothing here.”

“There's _you_ here!”

“I'm expendable.” 

Tucker felt like he’d been knocked flat. “Wha- who told you that?”

Washington looked confused. “I’m a tool,” and Tucker’s memory echoed, _“You’re a key.”_ He wanted to vomit. 

He glanced at Caboose, who was still watching at Washington. “Caboose?”

“Can we keep him?” Caboose asked. Washington choked. “I promise to take care of him and you can stay far away from him if you want and-”

“Caboose!” Tucker waited until Caboose actually looked at him. “He's not a skag, you can't just keep him. He's a person, not a pet.”

“So… yes?”

Tucker realized he'd been played. “You motherfucker.” Caboose grinned, bouncing on his toes. 

“I don't understand what's happening,” Washington said softly. 

“Yeah, neither do I,” Tucker told him. “But apparently I'm not gonna kill you, because you're kinda pathetic in a creepy assassin kind of way, and Caboose has decided you're his new best friend.”

“Alpha is my best friend,” Caboose corrected. “And then you. But he is a new friend now, yes.”

Washington looked between them. He settled on staring at Tucker at again, and that was Not Okay. “He's all yours.” And with that, he left.

He headed directly to the greenhouse, bright and humid and open, trying to shake off the past. The phantom taste of dust was swept away by the heavy scent of things growing, and he grabbed a basket and went to check the tomatoes. 

Caboose popped his head in a while later. “Are we eating in here?” He held up a handful of nutrition bars. “Also you need to take off The Squisher.”

Caboose was right, of course, Tucker had already worn his binder longer than he should. He locked the greenhouse door while Tucker ducked into a cluster of potted fruit trees and wiggled out of his binder. Caboose kept his back turned until he had his shirt back into place, sleeves rolled up in the heat. They divvied up the nutrition bars and ate, basking in the Highlands sunlight.

“You feed Freckles?” Tucker asked, nudging Caboose’s knee with his foot.

“He is outside hunting stalkers,” Caboose said. “I fed Wash, too, but he is not outside.”

Tucker snorted and sneaked one of his bars into Caboose's pile. “Caboose… You know he's dangerous, right?”

Caboose became very interested in the wrapper, fiddling with the edge. “I was in Old Haven when the Lance took over. They killed my sisters. I know Atlas is bad, Tucker. But Pandora is bad, and scary, and sometimes people are mean because they have to be. So why be mean when we don't have to?” He ripped open the wrapper and broke the nutrition bar in half, offering a piece to Tucker. “I know you're scared, because you're a Siren, and people hurt you. But the Atlas Lady on the ECHO last month was a Siren, too.”

“She was a bitch.”

“So are you.”

Tucker snagged the food out of Caboose’s hand. “Well, yeah, but you don't have to say it like that.”

Caboose laughed and reached out to hug Tucker before he stopped. “Can I touch?”

“Yeah.” And he tucked up against his side. “Thanks for asking.”

Caboose hummed. “Can I talk about my sisters? I miss them very much.”

“Go ahead, dude.”

Caboose talked while they finished eating, about his sisters and his mother and what growing up on Pandora had been like. Tucker didn't notice he was zoning out until Caboose put his chin on his head. “Do you want to talk to him?”

“I don't know,” Tucker admitted. “You're right. I'm scared. If you ever tell anyone I said that, I'll murder you.”

“You won't,” Caboose said easily. “I need to let Freckles back inside.” He climbed to his feet and offered Tucker a hand. 

Tucker frowned. “Yeah, hey, how'd you let him out without me to open the door?”

“Wash knows the opener code for the front door,” Caboose said. Tucker's blood ran cold. “Just the front door!”

“He could be _gone_?” Tucker shrieked. The greenhouse door unlocked at the first brush of his fingers, opening before he even turned the handle. 

The front doors were open and Tucker was already panicking, already planning to get the fuck off Pandora with Caboose and Freckles in tow, he should have killed that fucking Atlas dog when he had the chance-

Freckles trotted inside with Washington at his heels. Washington had a dead Spring Stalker in his hands. He saw Tucker and immediately turned on his heel to face the keypad, sealing the doors again.

Tucker crossed his arms over his chest. “What the fuck were you doing?” he demanded. 

Washington raised the stalker. He didn't turn around. “I, uh. I want to earn my keep. You didn't kick me out or kill me, so I thought that, that I could. I'm sorry.”

Slowly, it dawned on him. “Are you afraid of me?” Washington's tension was all the answer he needed. “Jesus Christ, okay.” He laughed, a sharp mirthless sound. “Fuckin’... okay. Okay.” 

Goddamnit. It all clicked together, and the picture it made was horrifying. Washington was both afraid of Sirens and awed by them. He was Atlas. The only real conclusion was that he’d worked for Steele, and she was a bigger bitch than originally assumed.

Tucker was just adopting strays left and right, wasn’t he?

He steadied himself and stepped a little closer, but kept Washington just out of arm’s reach. “Turn around, dude, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Washington turned hesitantly. Tucker offered him his hand. “Hi. I’m Tucker. I heard you don’t have anywhere to go.”

“I’m-” Washington pulled in a deep breath, held it, released. “I’m Wash. I don’t.”

“Welcome to Valhalla, Wash. C’mon, give the stalker to Freckles and I’ll show you the greenhouse.”

Wash took his hand.


	3. Chapter 3

Tucker and Wash spent the first several days avoiding each other. They were _trying_ , but years of trauma and paranoia don’t fade because you shake someone’s hand. Tucker had done the same thing when Caboose first showed up.

Caboose hadn’t let that stand, eventually completely breaking down on him. (It took way too long to scrub the snot out of that scarf.) He’d never met Tex and Alpha, but if Tucker ever did, he was gonna beat the shit out of them for that. He loved Caboose too goddamn much to let someone who hurt him like that get off scot-free.

Wash, though, seemed completely comfortable with their mutual avoidance. He would snag a couple of nutrition bars in the morning and fucking disappear until dinner, when he’d take something from the pile of produce the greenhouse slowly accumulated. 

This went on for almost a week before Caboose apparently decided he’d had enough and shoved Wash into the room with the digistruct module and locked them in.

Tucker set down his tools and groaned. “Fuck, fine.” He looked at Wash, who was staring almost terrified at the keypad to unlock the door. “Dude, do you need out?”

Wash looked at him. Tucker slowly shifted off his knees to sit on the floor. “Do you know the passcode?”

“Nope. But opening doors is my thing.” Tucker wiggled his fingers at him. “Also sometimes walls, but that is far less fun.” 

Wash’s eyes fixed on Tucker's marks. “So we're not stuck.”

“Nope. I do need to touch the door, and that means coming over there. You good?”

“They just open doors?”

Tucker nodded. “Lamest power ever, right?” He pushed to his feet. “I can do the typical Siren punching shit- your nose looks better, by the way- but other than that I'm a glorified lockpick.”

Wash stepped aside so Tucker could get to the keypad, bumping his hip on The Spoon. He blinked at it, confused. “There's a spoon. Embedded in the wall.”

“Family tradition.” Tucker was _very_ familiar with the locks in Valhalla, so it only took the slightest brush of his fingers for the bolts to disengage. “There, door’s open.”

Wash was still frowning at The Spoon. “How did it get there?”

Tucker made an ‘I dunno’ sound. (He did know. He did it. It was his fault.)

Wash grabbed The Spoon and tugged. It didn't budge, and his frown turned into a scowl. He pulled harder.

“It's not coming out, Washington,” Tucker told him. “I've been trying for almost two years.”

At this, Wash turned to him. “How long have you been here?”

Tucker shrugged, pushing open the door and gesturing for Wash to come with him. “Three and a half years? And I've been on Pandora for just about four.” He shut the door behind him and headed down the hall, walking backwards to talk with Wash. “Spent some time in Lynchwood and a few weeks in Overlook before finding Valhalla. Found the greenhouse. Almost burned down the greenhouse. Spent forever trying to clean up that mess.” He grinned. “I'd never even had a houseplant before.”

The corner of Wash's mouth twitched up briefly. “And now you run a whole research outpost.”

“Well, Caboose has helped since he got here, but it's only been, like, six months. Got down here just before Steele showed up to ruin everyone's day.”

Wash tensed at the mention of Steele. “There were Atlas assets at risk.”

Tucker lifted an eyebrow. That response sounded far too…. Rehearsed. “Yeah, Vault bullshit or whatever. I kept a very low profile for that. I saw the bounty on that Siren in New Haven. No thanks.”

Wash nodded a couple times, then reached out suddenly and grabbed Tucker's shoulder. Tucker jerked back instinctively and smacked into a wall.

“There's a wall,” Wash said.

“I noticed.” Tucker felt a weird tingle along his tattoos, but it didn’t hurt, so he ignored it. “Wait, was that a joke?” Wash didn’t answer. He was staring at the space just to the side of Tucker’s hip, jaw clenched. “Wash?”

He snapped out of it, meeting Tucker’s eyes. “Huh?”

“Are you okay?”

The expression of awe came back. “You really aren’t like her.”

“Keep looking at me like that and I will kill you.” 

Wash looked away so fast Tucker heard the vertebrae in his neck pop. “I'm sorry.”

“No, fuck, just…” Tucker bit his tongue, using the sharp burst of pain to ground himself. “I was born into one of those cults that popped up when Sirens first started appearing.” His hand brushed the wall behind him, and he took a step forward before he remembered things he didn't want to. “They took it as a sign that they were supported by God or something, you know? But no one ever considered that maybe I was just a fucking kid.” He shook his head. “Don't put me on a pedestal, Washington. I'm just a dude with weird tattoos.”

“I wondered why you were here,” Wash said softly. “You only come to Pandora when there's nowhere else to run.”

Tucker doesn't tell him there's no one left from that cult to run from. “Yeah, well. There's exactly three people on the planet who know what I am, so that's a bonus.”

Wash’s brow furrowed. “Who’s the third? Are you counting yourself?”

“That’s enough tragic backstory for today,” Tucker declared and ducked around Wash to head down the hall where it turned. “Wanna help me ‘n Caboose sort everything from the greenhouse? We drag it up to Overlook tomorrow.”

Wash followed him to the greenhouse, where Caboose was already counting things into baskets. Freckles lay sprawled in a patch of sunlight, napping and drooling. “Are we all friends yet?”

“We’re good, Caboose.” Tucker sat down and patted the floor next to him. “C’mon, before the murder dog over there decides to wake up and eat everything.”

“That was a fun weekend!” Caboose chirped, dropping a radish into a basket.

“That was a terrible weekend.”

Wash knelt, sitting back on his heels. “What happened?”

Caboose launched into the story immediately. Wash listened, enraptured, as he talked about his first couple of weeks at Valhalla and the time Freckles ate a hydroponics setup, pipes and all. Tucker dropped a plum into Wash’s lap and thought, yeah, maybe things would be fine.

The prickling in his marks from earlier was weird, though. That had never happened before.

It was probably nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know that Sirens are apparently super important in the Borderlands universe but there's almost _no lore_? My city now, Gearbox.
> 
> The Spoon Incident is something only Tucker knows the truth of. He'll never tell. (He told Caboose it was there when he moved in.)
> 
> I actually have a oneshot with Caboose's backstory planned so keep an eye out.
> 
> OrangeyKay did [art](http://artsyorangeykay.tumblr.com/post/175131668719/a-commission-for-onthenilerivah-of-a-sirentucker) for Siren Tucker and I am dying all the time always


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey shoutout to el for answering my six million questions about the Presequel bc I _haven't played it_.
> 
> Quick notes for the Borderlands refs!  
> -A Pandoran "day" is about 90 hours, so they split it into four "cycles" of aproxx. 22 hours.  
> -Elpis is the name of Pandora's moon, and Concordia is it's "capital"  
> -No one on Pandora is a good person. It's not super explicit here, but. Please remember that.
> 
> I was gonna do slow burn tuckington but i decided I don't hate myself that much. ::stares at Back to the Light for a long time::
> 
> Edit: hey ao3 thanks for dropping my line break, i really appreciate fixing that on my phone at 2am.

In the months that followed, the three occupants of Valhalla got… comfortable with each other. It helped that Wash was so goddamned _agreeable_ with Tucker. Other than a handful of sarcastic comments that were generally hilarious, he took on the chores assigned to him and anything else Tucker asked of him without complaint.

It was almost fucking eerie, the way he never told them no. It was tempting to push it, but then Tucker remembered saying no to the Ministers and the _Room_ and had to go sit in the greenhouse and the sunshine for a few hours.

He didn’t push it.

There were times when the weird prickle in his marks came back, but he couldn’t figure out why. Caboose suggested he ask Lilith during one of their check-ins with New Haven, but Tucker looked him in the eye and said, “I’d feed my arm to Freckles first, thanks.”

Caboose looked mournfully at his skag. “He’d eat it, too.”

But other than that, not much actually changed. Tucker even almost liked Wash- sorta wanted to sit on his dick, because he’s stupid hot. But Wash still looked at him with that reverence sometimes, and Tucker will lie and steal and murder but he drew the line at taking advantage for sex. He’d been on the other side of that, and he still had days where not even Caboose can touch him without his skin crawling. 

Then Hyperion built their space station.

The framework appeared without warning. The dark cycle passed and the dawn cycle began with the skeleton of the station between Pandora and Elpis.

Tucker dragged Caboose back inside and went straight to the ECHOcomm. It took twenty fucking minutes to connect, and Simmons didn't answer with his normal greeting.

“Yes, Tucker, we see it, and no, we don't know what it is or who's building it.”

“Hyperion,” Wash said. Tucker could count six knives on him, and those were the ones Wash was _letting_ him see.

“Oh, is this the pet assassin?” Grif asked in the background. “Very observant. It's a giant fucking “H,” of course it's Hyperion!”

“Why can't they just leave us alone?” Caboose said harshly. “Dahl left Mama on the moon, Altas killed my sisters, what does _Hyperion_ want?”

“We're trying to get in contact with them,” Simmons said. “Both here in Rat’s Nest and in New Haven, but they haven’t answered.”

“Do you know anything about Hyperion?” Tucker asked. He reached out to take Caboose’s hand.

“I worked for Tediore,” Simmons said. “I- _Rumor_ was Hyperion has a very competitive work environment.” Wash scoffed lightly, and Tucker could feel Simmons glaring from half a continent away. “Think bandits with manners.” 

“I know the type,” Tucker said dryly.

“But there’s no reason for them to be interested in Pandora.” Simmons continued. “No one is, except Atlas, and since the Vault was a bust even they bugged out. There’s nothing here, that’s why I picked it.”

“So it’s just there?” Tucker shifted foot to foot, ready to bug out himself, and wondered if Simmons felt the same way. 

“It’s just there,” Grif confirmed. He sounded exhausted and angry. “I’m with Caboose, didn’t Dahl do enough to us?”

Wash moved closer to the microphone, staying in Tucker’s line of sight. “Would Concordia have any more information?”

“Possibly?” Simmons sounded thoughtful. “Unless they’re shipping materials in from other mining colonies, Hyperion would have to seize the mines on Elpis.”

Caboose whined, visibly distressed. Right, His mother and younger sisters lived in Concordia.

“The problem,” Grif cut in, “is that contacting Concordia isn’t easy, because it’s on the fucking moon. And that thing is between us and the moon, so our signal might not reach at all anymore.”

“So the major settlements of Pandora lose contact with each other,” Wash muttered. 

“Like when Steele brought down the ECHOnet?”

“Almost. Subtler.” Wash glanced upward, like he would see the station and Elpis through several meters of steel. “They can do anything they want on Elpis and Concordia would have no way to warn Haven.”

“What do we do?” Grif asked after a moment.

“Now? Nothing. There’s nothing we can do. Unless you plan on fighting through the last of the Crimson Lance at the spaceport in the Fathoms?”

“That sounds like something a Vault Hunter should do,” Grif said. “You know, the ones with death wishes.”

The corner of Wash’s mouth twitched into that almost-smile of his. “There’s four of them in Haven, isn’t there? Try the Truxican.”

“New Haven,” Caboose corrected softly. “Are Kai and Donut safe?”

“It hasn’t been like Haven yet.” Papers rustled as Simmons went through his notes. “And no one else has reported anything, from Fyrestone all the way to Lynchwood. You guys are near Overlook, right? We haven’t heard from them yet.”

“We’ll check on them,” Tucker promised. “Their ECHOcomm went down the other day because Dave is a fucking moron.”

“He’s the one that harasses you, right?” Grif asked.

“Yep.”

“Kill him.”

“I plan to, eventually.”

“Fuck,” Simmons said loudly, followed by the thud of something falling. “Gotta go, the power station in the Tundra Express is calling in.” The transmission shut down a second later. 

Caboose squeezed Tucker’s hand. “I don’t like it.”

“Neither do I,” Wash said. Both of them looked at Tucker, and he tugged his scarf tighter.

He was so fucking tired of hiding.

The transmission came three weeks later, hitting every settlement on Pandora: Hyperion was building a research station, and Helios was there to stay.

“We all agree that’s bullshit, right?” Tucker asked as they made their way back to Valhalla from Overlook. Helios was half-obscured with clouds- the rainy season was well underway- but it was almost completed already. “Valhalla is a research outpost, fucking _Sanctuary_ doubled as a research station, but that? Not for science.”

“Not for science,” Caboose agreed, one hand on Freckles’s armored back and the other wrapped tight around his SMG. His eyes found the bright spot of Concordia on Elpis’s surface. “Do you think they’re okay?”

“Hyperion won’t touch Concordia as long as it’s useful.” Wash appeared out of fucking nowhere and shoved something into Tucker’s hands. “Put that on.”

He turned it over. “Is this a shield?” He squinted. “Is this a fucking _Pangolin_?”

“Yes. Put it on.” Wash handed an identical device to Caboose, and Tucker’s marks prickled. “Hyperion weapons are useless for the first few shots, but even bad shots can still land.” 

Tucker clipped the shield to his belt. Wash reached over and slid it from the side of his hip so it sat against his back. Tucker refused to think about those fingers dipping into his waistband and-

The darkening sky lit up as an enormous beam of light shot from the center of Helios to the surface of Elpis. The sound of the impact echoed through the valleys of the Highlands, and Tucker heard screaming from Overlook.

“No!” Caboose took off towards the river and Valhalla, Freckles howling at his side. Tucker was at his heels in a second, then dug into the power crackling in his bones to move just a little faster so he hit the outpost first, already reaching for the locks before he touched the doors. The electricity in his marks burned away his sleeve, but the the doors were open enough Caboose didn’t have to break stride in his desperate sprint for the ECHOcomm.

“Go, I’ll close them,” Wash shouted, and Tucker darted inside. Caboose was already at the control panel, shaking. Freckles paced the hall, snarling when Tucker approached, but let himin to comfort his master.

“Mikey?” he said. Caboose barely muffled a sob. “Mikey, it wasn’t on Concordia. They should be safe for now.” 

Caboose pulled Tucker into his lap and wrapped his arms around him, hiding his face in Tucker’s scarf to cry. Tucker fought down the instinct to kill and run and instead carded his bare hand through his curls.

The speakers whined as the signal connected. “We know, we know,” Grif said, panicked. “Two of Peirce’s Vault Hunters were in Concordia and this is definitely some Vault Hunter bullshit so-”

“How do we connect to Concordia?” Tucker interrupted. Grif went silent.

“You can’t,” Simmons said. “The only place with an ECHOcomm with that kind of power is Sanctuary.”

“What makes it special?”

Simmons was quiet for a moment. “The engines powering it, and the fact it uses the hull as an amplifier. Sanctuary was a mining ship, but it’s still a ship.”

Power. Tucker could do power, he jumpstarted Valhalla’s generators four years ago. “Can we compensate for the amplifiers with enough power?”

“Theoretically? But where are you gonna get that kind of power?”

“Don’t worry about it. What’s Concordia’s frequency?”

He found a marker from when the outpost was functioning that still miraculously worked and scribbled the long string of numbers onto Caboose’s arm, and copied the frequency for Rat’s Nest underneath it. “Caboose, c’mon, we’re rerouting the power for all nonessential systems into the radio.”

“I can do it here,” Wash had come silently into the room earlier and was booting up the main console. Tucker had honestly forgotten this was the control room for the whole outpost.

“Don’t bother, it needs a pass… word…” Tucker trailed off as Wash typed in _something_ and the computer dinged brightly. “Holy fuck, you have a password.”

Wash shot him that almost smile before turning back to the keyboard. “What’s your plan for power?”

“I’m gonna charge it.”

Wash stopped typing. “That could kill you.”

“Yep.” Tucker pulled his personal ECHO from his belt and fiddled with the dials. Wash’s ECHO pinged as it connected. “I’ll let you know if I’m not dead after this.”

Caboose wrapped his arms tighter around Tucker’s waist. “Don’t leave me, too.”

_No, don’t leave me alone, it’s dark!_

Tucker held Caboose’s face in his hands. “Michael Jesús Caboose, you are the only good thing in this entire fucking universe, and I’m incredibly selfish. I’m keeping you as long as I can.”

Caboose reluctantly let go, and Tucker grabbed Wash by the shoulder and made the assassin look at him. “If I die, you better fucking look after him.” The now-familiar prickle moved down his arm, and his marks… glowed, faintly.

“Of course,” Wash said through gritted teeth. 

Tucker stared him down for a moment before ducking out and running.

The bowels of Valhalla were perpetually dim and dusty and Tucker _hated_ it. The first- and only- time he’d been down here he jumped the generator and bolted, but this time he couldn’t, so he shook off the memories and pried one of the safety cover off a power conduit.

“Ready?” he asked his ECHO.

“Yes.”

“Here goes nothing,” he muttered, and brought the lightning constantly buzzing in his brain to bear.

He grabbed the conduit.

* * *

Everything hurt.

Tucker groaned, and the warm shape around him shifted closer. “You did it,” it said, and that was _Caboose_. “My mama is okay and the laser turned off. Go back to sleep.”

Tucker went back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how about those backstory hints?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Handsome Jack is the main Villain in Borderlands 2.
> 
> Shoutout to mantisbelle for letting me yell about a potential plot hole until i fixed it, and to el for giving this a quick readthrough for quality control.

Wash’s personal ECHO buzzed insistently. Tucker looked up from where his hands were buried in the soil of one of the greenhouse boxes. “Wash, what the fuck is that.”

“I'm not sure,” he murmured, brushing dirt off his hands on his pants. He stared at the ECHO for a second before his jaw clenched. Tucker's marks prickled, and Wash accepted the transmission. 

_“Hello former Atlas employee,”_ a cocky voice said, _“I'm Handsome Jack, CEO of Hyperion and the new owner of all Atlas assets on Pandora, including you. From this point on, you all work for me. Your first action as Hyperion should be to report in immediately.”_

There was a second of silence before Tucker lunged, but Wash was already dropping the ECHO to the floor and driving a knife through the screen. Caboose scooped it up, knife and all, and chucked it at Freckles, who swallowed it whole. 

Washington sucked in a breath between his teeth, the sound sharp. “Tucker.”

Tucker looked at him, and the prickling in his marks turned near-painful. Wash had grabbed the edge of one of the hydroponics rigs hard enough his knuckles were white. “Give me an order,” Wash said through his teeth.

“What?” Tucker asked, half panicked. “What the fuck are you talking about, Wash, what the fuck is going on?”

“Tucker, now!” Wash sounded like he was in _pain._

Tucker grabbed a potato from his basket and threw it. “Catch?”

It smacked solidly into Wash’s palm. The stinging pain in Tucker’s tattoos turned cold and dull, but the marks on his bare hand and forearm lit up almost blinding for a moment.

That hand was around Washington’s throat in less than a second, pulling him from the hydroponics rig to pin him against the wall. “You have twenty seconds before I snap your fucking neck. Explain.”

“Steele put a compulsion in my head and I transferred ownership to you,” Washington told him.

“Compulsion? _What ownership?_ ” 

Caboose took that moment to muscle between them, shoving Tucker away. He lost his grip on Washington’s throat and Caboose pushed him back another step. Washington stayed against the wall.

“Commandant Steele’s power manifested in the ability to manipulate neurology,” he said. There was a knife in his hand. Tucker wasn't sure when he pulled it. “She could make you see or hear things that weren't there, or feel things that weren't happening.

“She had a very specific way she wanted an assassin in her employ to behave, and when I didn't match her expectations, she made me.”

“She hurt you,” Caboose whispered.

Washington nodded once. “If I didn't follow her orders or behave how she wanted, the compulsion she left…. When she died, it started to unravel, but then I found you, and it wouldn't let me _leave._ It attached itself to the next Siren I saw.”

A dozen little moments from the past four months started to make sense- the immediate response to requests, the way Wash fell silent and tense after his rare moments of dry humor, even the damn _prickling_ was likely some sort of response to whatever remained of the dead Siren’s power.

“What just happened? Right now?” Tucker asked. He was still furious, still felt used somehow, and part of him still wanted to break Wash's spine with his bare hands.

But a different, smaller part of him remembered the reason he started running in the first place was because he didn't want to hurt anyone anymore. 

“It tried to shift again,” Wash said. “And I would rather you take whatever control I still had than let Hyperion have any power over me at all.”

Tucker didn't know how to handle that, so he did what he did best. 

He ran.

 

Valhalla was built at the edge of a tributary to the Hesiod River. A couple hundred meters back from the plexiglass wall of the greenhouse was even a waterfall. It was ice cold, fed by the glaciers in the Windshear Wastes, and swollen from the Highlands’ rainy season. 

There was a niche in the rock behind the waterfall that Tucker fit in near perfectly. He'd discovered it in his first couple of months in Valhalla, when the locks didn't respond all the time and he was still afraid of using his Siren powers. It was a good place to think. 

Hours later, he trekked back into Valhalla’s small officers kitchen, soaked through and shivering. “Let’s-” he stopped. That was too close to an actual order. “Do you know what it’s limits are?”

“No,” Wash said. Caboose ducked past Tucker to drag a couple blankets out of a storage closet down the hall and wrap him in them. Tucker shuffled to sit across from Wash.

“I’m still furious,” he said. “That- I hate this. But you’re right, Hyperion can’t be trusted.”

“I trust you,” Wash told him.

“No, you don’t.”

“I do. You’re kinder than you let yourself believe.”

Tucker tugged his blankets closer. Caboose set a bowl of soup in front of him and moved to sit on the floor with Freckles, probably watching to see if they were going to kill each other again. “So what do we do? Because I don’t fucking want this, Washington.”

“Whatever you want,” Wash said. “I can’t tell you no.” Tucker flinched, stomach turning, and Wash’s almost-smile appeared. “That’s why I trust you.”

“What counts as an order?” Caboose asked, patting Freckles. “So we can not say them.”

Wash looked down at him, surprised. “What do you mean?”

Tucker realized what Caboose was asking. “Caboose, you’re brilliant.”

“I know.”

“ _Wording_ ,” Tucker told Wash. “Does wording affect it, like asking you compared to telling you?”

“I don’t know,” Wash said. “Steele wasn’t interested in what I wanted.”

“If she wasn’t already dead I would kill her myself and feed her to Freckles,” Tucker chirped. Freckles growled, and it sounded like agreement. “But she is, and now I get to clean up her messes. Can we test that?”

Wash stared. “You… want to?”

“I’m not taking someone’s choices from them,” Tucker said. “I won’t. If that means changing how I say things to you, I’ll do it.”

That open adoration filled Wash’s eyes before he dropped his gaze. 

Something warm and unfamiliar unfurled in Tucker's chest.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally get to namedrop more rvb characters hell yeah
> 
> I'm so FUCKING excited for the next chapter

They spend three weeks pushing the boundaries of the compulsion. It only reacts to Tucker, so Caboose doesn’t have to worry. It doesn’t react to open requests; however, Tucker has to specify ‘everyone.’ Asking “will you” is an order. Asking “can you” is an order unless it is literally outside of Wash’s physical limitations. They think. Tucker didn't want to test it more in depth.

Asking “do you want” is safe. They learned this when Tucker absentmindedly asked, “Hey Wash, do you wanna get that box down?” Wash had been halfway to Tucker’s side when he stopped.

“No, I don’t,” he said hesitantly, and wonder bloomed across his face.

Tucker quickly ran his previous words through his head. Slowly, he tried, “Do you want to go stick your hand in Freckles’s mouth?”

“Absolutely not,” Wash said, and honest-to-god _giggled_. Tucker had to stop himself from shoving him against the wall and dropping to his knees _who the fuck actually giggles_ -

They don’t forget about Hyperion, though, and they never really relax, always ready to see soldiers bearing Hyperion’s diagonal lines cross the bridge from Overlook. 

Then Rat’s Nest calls Valhalla for the first time in four years.

Tucker had never heard the alarm system make that noise and he panicked immediately. Wash tapped his arm and muttered, “It’s the ECHOcomm.”

“That does not make me feel better,” he said, dropping his tools and scrambling to his feet. He and Wash had been trying to tag-team the digistruct into working. “Simmons and I have a rule; he doesn’t get to call me.”

“So it’s bad?”

“It’s nothing good, that’s for sure! Go get Caboose.” His marks flickered. “Shit, fuck, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Wash said, snatching Tucker’s personal ECHO from his belt and heading for the main doors. Tucker made a note to replace the one they fed to Freckles once the world wasn’t possibly ending. He skid into the control room and lunged for the answer switch. 

“What the fuck, Simmons?”

“New Haven is gone,” Grif says.

Tucker feels- he doesn’t know if he feels _anything_ , just hollowed out. “What?”

“Five hours ago, Hyperion marched into New Haven.” Tucker had only heard Donut’s voice once or twice, as he normally leaves so Caboose has a minute alone with his maybe-boyfriend, but it’s never been this… flat. “Lilith is dead, and the city is burning. Kaikaina and I made it out, and I saw Helena with a few other survivors, but… half the city is dead.”

“Lilith is dead?” Tucker asked, cold dread gripping his heart. He didn’t want anything to do with the other Siren, but she was supposed to be untouchable. She fucking _teleported_ , if Hyperion could get her, well.

Tucker would rather die than get used again, but he still didn’t _want_ to die.

“A couple of the others said something about Jack saying he couldn’t have a Siren messing things up,” a quiet, feminine voice said. It was as hollow as Donut’s, as hollow as Tucker felt. “She… I _liked_ Lilith. She was funny. I saw her beat the shit out of a guy that made one of her boyfriends uncomfortable.”

“It’s only a matter of time before Hyperion makes it to the Headlands, and they will, if they want to seize the mines in the Badlands,” Grif sounded exhausted. “We need to move, but you need to know what’s happening. Simmons is rigging the radio tower to explode so they can’t trace any old transmissions to the other settlements, or to you.

“We’ll try to contact you again if we can, but-”

“Go to Overlook,” Tucker said. Immediately, he glanced at the doorway, but Wash was still finding Caboose, and wasn’t hit by the new order. “Go to Overlook, all of you, and I’ll come find you.”

“Tucker-”

“Valhalla is one of the safest places on the goddamn planet, I made sure of it,” he interrupted. “So shut the fuck up and _go to Overlook, Grif._ ”

“Caboose is in Valhalla,” Donut said. “If this is an invitation, I’ll take it.”

“We can see each other’s faces for once.” Simmons sounded distant, far from the microphone. “Charges are set, and the truck Donut stole from those bandits is loaded with _a lot_ of guns. All of them. I didn’t know we had that many.” 

“Tell Mikey I’ll see him soon,” Donut said, and the transmission cut.

Tucker was still staring at the console when Wash and Caboose made it. “Hyperion took New Haven,” Tucker told them. Caboose cried out. “Donut is fine, he made it out, but it’s not safe for them anymore. They’re coming here.”

“They?” Wash asked.

“Donut, Simmons, Grif, and a woman? I didn’t catch her name.”

“Kai,” Caboose said softly. “Kaikaina. She’s Grif’s little sister.”

Wash stepped closer, lifted a hand to touch Tucker’s shoulder, then visibly changed his mind and let it drop. “Your hands are shaking.”

“They killed Lilith. Hyperion killed _Lilith_ , the scariest fucker on Pandora, because she was a Siren. I- no one else can know what I am. _No one else._ ”

“You’re not gonna tell Donut? Or the others?” Caboose reached out and took Tucker’s hands between his. Wash was right, they were shaking. 

“I can’t. I can’t, Caboose, what if- fuck, what was I thinking, I’m-”

Caboose tugged him to his chest and held him. “Okay. If you don’t want them to know, I won’t tell. I’ll help you hide. Wash will, too.”

“Who’s the third person?” Wash asked. Tucker looked at him, confused. “Several months ago, you told me there were three people on Pandora who knew about you. One is Caboose, one is me. Who’s the third?”

“Sarge won’t rat me out,” Tucker said, freeing himself from Caboose's arms.

“Tucker, you just said-”

“I know what I said! I trust him, Wash, he-” Tucker inhaled deeply. “His wife was a Siren, and Hyperion killed her. He won't turn me over to the same people that killed Emily. He won't.”

Wash watched him for several long seconds. “Okay. Does he know where we are?” 

“Not really. I told him I was going to the Highlands. I didn't say if I was staying. That was almost four years ago.”

“Okay.” Wash closed his eyes for a moment, exhaled hard. “How long until they get here?”

Tucker made an “I dunno” sound. Caboose said, “twelve days.”

They both looked at him. He shrugged. “That's how long it took me, but it was only me and Freckles, so they might be longer.”

“Twelve days,” Tucker said. Twelve days to figure out how he was going to explain why he kept covered indoors. Twelve days until they were forced to face the reality of Hyperion occupation. 

Twelve days.

 

* * *

 

It took ten. The three occupants of Valhalla were making a supply run to Overlook when there was a loud “Caboose!” and a young man came sprinting from the town to slam into Caboose's chest. 

“Donut!” Caboose said, just as loud, and actually picked the man up and spun around.

Donut laughed, delighted, as Caboose set him down. “Oh, Caboose,” he said softly, running his fingertips over the old acid scars along Caboose’s jaw and throat. “That's what she did to you.”

“There are no spiderants in the Highlands,” Caboose told him. Donut laughed again, and stood up on his tiptoes to kiss the scars. “Also, now we match.

“Not gonna introduce me?” Tucker chirped, and the two blushed. “God, you're cuter in person. I'm Tucker.” 

“Donut.” Caboose hadn't been kidding about “matching”: the side of Donut's face was a swath of old burns. It wasn't uncommon, on Pandora. “The others are this way- we got in a couple hours ago.”

They're different than Tucker expected, somehow. Grif was _big_ in a way most Pandorans don't get, half-starved as they are, and his sister was the same. Simmons was tall and skinny and his prosthetic actually didn't look cobbled together like so much of the technology on the planet. 

“Are you gonna fix my digistruct, you rotten fucking liar?”

Simmons looked up and grinned. “In my defense, that's typically a very reliable model. How are you wearing that many clothes?”

“Simmons, your husband is right there,” Tucker gasped, mock scandalized. “I like layers. They're pretty lightweight.” 

“Your scarf is pretty,” Kaikaina said. Tucker touched it- bright teal and sheer and snug around his throat. 

“Thanks. I gotta talk to Karima, but after that,” he shrugged. “Welcome home?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note for the rvb fandom: if you look at the lilith/roland/brick/mordecai tag(the first four VH poly), there's two fics. both are mine.  
> Note for the borderlands fandom: where the fuck you been? why are you sleeping on this ship? catch up.
> 
> [This](http://borderlands.wikia.com/wiki/Queen_Tarantella?file=Queen_tarantella_1.png) is the thing that hurt Caboose.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning for _temporary_ major character death and the subsequent horrific murder of the people who killed that character

“Caboose!” Tucker stormed into the kitchen. “Where the fuck is your dog?”

“What did he eat,” Caboose sighed. He sat straighter. “Not-”

“No, if he’d touched my binder I’d be crying and he’d be dead.”

“That’s fair.” Caboose said.

“Your fucking dog ate my belt.”

“Oh, no,” Donut said. Belts were _essential_ on Pandora- you had to clip holsters and ECHOs and shields to something.

“Oh, yes,” Tucker said, “and I’m leaving the outpost today.”

“We couldn’t tell,” Simmons said drily. Tucker knew he knew something was up, and that Tucker didn’t cover every inch of his skin because he ‘liked layers’ or ‘ran cold.’ 

“Simmons,” Kai said sharply.

Tucker tugged at the edge of his glove. They knew he was hiding _something_ , but he couldn’t trust them yet. 

“Take Wash?” Caboose suggested. “I’m sorry about Freckles, I will talk to him.”

“I was gonna take Wash anyway,” Tucker said. He snagged a plum from the breakfast table, tossed it from hand to hand. 

Simmons frowned. “You look like you're about to vibrate out of your skin. It's like watching Caboose on a sugar rush.”

Tucker realized he'd been bouncing on his toes and it was _difficult_ to stop. He dropped one hand and tapped his fingers against his thigh. “‘M fine.”

“If you're that antsy to fuck Wash outside, the greenhouse is probably safer,” Kai said, and the whole room erupted into sounds of disgust and distress.

“Kai,” Caboose whined. “Now it will take them _longer_ , I’ve been waiting for _months._ ”

“You’re not already fucking him?” Kai asked, confused. “You look at him like you’re two seconds from dragging him into a closet and getting his pants off.” Caboose put his on the table and groaned.

“Oh, I want to,” Tucker told her, “but he’s not into it.”

“You’re kidding right?” Donut sounded desperate. Caboose’s groans got louder. “You’re not kidding.”

“I don’t know what you guys are talking about anymore,” Tucker said. He pointed at Caboose. “Talk to your piece of shit skag and tell him to stop eating my laundry or he’s banned from the greenhouse while shit dries.”

He left to find Wash, ignoring the distressed moaning from Caboose. He’d be fine. Probably. 

Wash was in the control room, watching as Grif methodically dismantled the ECHOcomm. Grif pointed a screwdriver at Tucker. “What the fuck did you do?”

“What?”

“Half the hardware is burned out, I’m surprised it’s still operational. Whatever you did to call Concordia, probably, but it’s fucked. Where did you get that kind of power? Jesus.”

“The generators, actually,” Wash said wryly. The corners of his eyes tightened and Tucker’s marks prickled under his sleeve. Mentally, he added “snark” to the list of things to try and work out of the compulsion the next time they pushed at it.

“Gonna work on those next,” Grif muttered, going back to work. Wash pushed off the desk, heading to Tucker’s side. Tucker led him into the hall and tucked the plum into his hand.

“Wanna leave the outpost?” Tucker asked. “I need someone to watch my back.”

“Of course,” Wash said, too quickly, and Tucker glanced down at his arm. No tingling, so he hadn’t triggered the compulsion. Wash must be feeling cooped up, too.

“I just need to burn off some energy,” Tucker said lowly, eyes flickering to the open door to check for Grif. “I can’t _not_ use my-” he waved his hand at Wash- “and expect to keep it under control. I get more and more antsy until something fucking explodes. So I need to go explode something on purpose.”

Wash nodded, sliding the plum into the pocket of his jacket. “I'll get my shield.” He frowned. “Your belt?”

“Eaten!” Tucker said with false cheer. “So I really need you.”

An expression Tucker couldn't identify flickered across Wash's face. “I'll meet you by the door in five.”

 

* * *

 

Tucker picked his way down the rocks around the Hesiod River, Wash a step behind him with Tucker’s ECHO clipped to his belt.

“Where are we going?” Wash asked. “This is too open.”

“Yeah, see that windsock?” Tucker pointed at the orange flag about half a mile out. “Right under it is a part of the shore that drops off. It's pretty much invisible until you're right on top of it. I should know, I fell in two years ago.”

“And your plan is?”

“Disturb the stalker nest nearby, lure ‘em down there, and kill all of them.”

Wash looked at Overlook in the distance. “I’m sure Karima will appreciate-” He broke off mid-sentence and stiffened, looking around. Suddenly, faster than Tucker could follow, he unclipped his shield from his belt, dragging Tucker to his chest and hooking the shield over the hem of his pants. It activated, hexagon patterns tessellating across his body.

The gunshot echoed off the cliffs. Wash jerked forward as the bullet passed through his chest to slam into the shield. Tucker caught a corpse in his arms.

 _I'm never gonna see his stupid almost smile again,_ Tucker realized, the thought both distant and all consuming. 

“Nice shot!” Over the body's shoulder, Tucker could see a small group approaching. All of them were armed. The muzzle of one of the guns was still smoking. 

Cold fury stole through him. He shoved it down- anger made you stupid, and stupid got you killed. Slowly, he shifted so the shield was hidden from their view. Even slower, he lowered the corpse to the ground, crouching next to it. He never took his eyes off the bandits. “You really shouldn't have done that,” he said softly. 

“We were aiming for you,” the bandit that shot Wash said. The leader. “See, Jack put out a bounty on Sirens-” Terror shot down Tucker's spine- “but we thought, why look for a real Siren when we could make one? All we need is some ink and dead bitch.”

Tucker hid his hands behind the corpse, working off one of his gloves. “You wanna know something interesting?” Glove off, he silently pulled Wash's pistol from the holster hidden in his jacket. “Bandit weapons have their magazines held in place by a locking mechanism, and they don't fire when unlocked.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” As Tucker reached up to roll up his sleeve, the leader raised his gun, but he wasn't fast enough. Every one of the bandit's guns clicked as the magazines unlocked.

“You wanted a Siren?” Tucker snarled, his marks glowing. “You got one.” Before they could react, Tucker had already shot two of them in the head, bodies dropping next to their useless weapons. The bandit closest to him tossed away their gun and launched at Tucker, knife in hand. Tucker was ready for him though, stuffing Wash's pistol into his boot and launching forward. He grabbed onto their head, wrenching to the left until he heard a sharp crack, and as they fell limp Tucker took their knife and threw it into the throat of the next bandit.

And then there was one. In the time that it had taken Tucker to dispatch his companions, the leader had relocked his magazine and was aiming the gun, hands shaking, at Tucker's chest. Tucker pulled the pistol from his boot as the bandit’s shot pinged off his shield. The next shot deflected as well, and the shield beeped, letting Tucker and the bandit know that it was nearly depleted.

Before the next shot could shatter his shield, Tucker put a bullet in the bandit’s leg. With a scream, he dropped to ground, knee shattered. Tucker stalked forward and grabbed his chin, tilting his face and forcing him to look Tucker in the eye. “You really shouldn’t have _fucking_ done that,” he hissed, and let the lightning in his veins loose. 

Blood splattered across his face and chest. He grimaced and shook it from his hand. A few droplets landed on the edge an ECHO recorder sticking out of the bandit's pocket, likely the bounty he’d mentioned. Tucker pulled it free and shoved it in his own pocket, slipping Wash's pistol back into his boot.

Wash. Tucker couldn’t just leave him there to the stalkers, he had to- Fuck. _Fuck_. 

Why didn’t he just keep the fucking shield? Why did he give it to Tucker? There’s no way he didn’t know it was a death sentence, why would he-

Just as Tucker touched the body, it dissolved. No, it _deconstructed._

_Wash had a New-U._

The motherfucker had somehow maintained the insane subscription fee for Hyperion's reconstruction tech, making him functionally immortal. Where was the nearest digistruct station? Tucker had to go break his nose again. 

He turned on his heel and took off running.

 

* * *

 

Wash pushed off the wall surrounding Overlook as Tucker reached it. The corners of his mouth turned down as he took in the blood drying on Tucker's skin. “Tuck-”

“You're an asshole,” Tucker interrupted. He grabbed Wash by the collar of his jacket and dragged him down to kiss him hard. 

It wasn't fireworks and warmth the way Tucker used to think his first kiss would be. It was desperate and hungry and very, very one-sided.

Tucker pulled back. “You don't want this.”

“I'd given up on having it,” Wash said, and then his hands were on Tucker's hips and he flipped them ‘round so Tucker had his back against the wall. Tucker dragged him back down. Wash made a soft noise of frustration and his hands slid from Tucker's hips to his thighs and _lifted_ until Tucker's legs were wrapped around his waist.

Tucker threaded his hands, bare and bloodied, into Wash's hair, smearing red across his temple. “You stupid fucker, I thought- what do you mean, ‘given up’?”

“Wanted you for months,” Wash said, and Tucker's hands tightened in his hair. He gasped softly, and that _wasn't_ a knife against Tucker's hip. “We need to stop.”

“Not here,” Tucker agreed, but his lips found their way back to Wash's. Wash lifted one hand to tilt Tucker's chin, and _oh_ , there were the fireworks he expected, bursting low in his gut. “Fuck, Wash, not here, not here.”

Wash groaned, pressed so close Tucker felt it in his ribs. Slowly, hesitant, he let Tucker drop back to the ground. He rubbed his thumb over Tucker's cheek. “Is any of this yours?”

“No. I thought- fuck, don't-” he bit back the demand. “You died in my fucking arms and I thought you were gone. It was easier to be angry.”

There was that almost-smile. “Is there anything left of them?”

“It's messy,” Tucker said proudly, then frowned. “They mentioned a bounty. On Sirens.” Wash's hand stilled against his face. “I have the ECHO, but- they didn't know, Wash. They were looking for anyone they could pass off as a Siren, and that means Kai's in danger, too, not to mention every woman in Overlook.”

“We're going back,” Wash said, then grit his teeth. Tucker's arm tingled as the compulsion went active for a second. “Still doesn't like me giving orders,” he mumbled.

“Alright,” Tucker said, nudging him. “We can go.” The prickling stopped, and so did the grimace. “Fuck, I left my gloves.”

“I'll replace them,” Wash said immediately. 

“I have another pair, it’s my binder that’s irreplaceable.” Tucker’s fingers twitched- he wanted to bury them in Wash’s hair again. “Fuck, that’s why they came after us; my binder’s still drying in the greenhouse.”

“Valhalla,” Wash said firmly, reaching down to grab Tucker’s hand and drag him down toward the river and the bridge across it. Tucker stared dumbstruck at their joined hands. He’d held Caboose’s hand before, but this was different, somehow. 

It was good. He curled his fingers around the ones in his hand and felt Wash’s grip tighten in response. That grip stayed solid the whole way back.

As soon as they were in range, Tucker snagged his ECHO from Wash’s belt with his free hand. “Caboose?”

_“Tucker! You’re back early, you said you would be out for hours.”_

“Yeah, we have a problem. Get everyone in the kitchen, ‘Boose, we’ll meet you there.” He ended the transmission

“Are you sure?” Wash asked, and Tucker squeezed his hand.

“I’m not fucking telling them, Wash. We’re gonna listen to this fucking bounty and then Kai and me are gonna figure what we gotta do to stay safer.”

“No more leaving the outpost without your binder?” Wash suggested, and Tucker scowled.

“Yeah. Fuck, I hate this.” He stepped aside so Wash could punch in the passcode for the entrance. “What about this?” He lifted their joined hands, and fear flashed across Wash’s eyes, there and gone. “Okay.” He took his hand back.

“I-”

“You don’t have to explain shit. Let’s- do you wanna go figure out what this bounty is?”

Donut gasped when they made it to the kitchen. “Oh my god, are you okay?”

“Ask Wash about his New-U account!” Tucker said brightly before tossing the ECHO recorder onto the table. “Got attacked over a bounty that’s not even mine and I wanna know why.”

Grif turned the recorder on. _“Alright, you mindless gun-hands. You're looking for a really hot chick with blue tattoos and mystical powers. A Siren. Specifically, one named Lilith. The official reports say she died in New Haven, but I’ve heard rumors of another Siren and I doubt it’s anyone else. Actually, fuck it, if you can get your hands on **any** Siren, tell me and I'll pay you enough money to build a mansion made out of other... smaller mansions. Out.”_

“Another Siren?” Kai asked.

“Maybe we should keep an eye out,” Grif said, and Tucker’s blood ran cold. “I mean, if it’s Sirens he’s after, maybe confirming that rumor one way or another will get him to leave Pandora.”

“Unlikely,” Wash said, but Tucker barely heard it over the heartbeat pounding in his ears.

“We can’t just turn someone over,” Caboose insisted, but Grif pressed on.

“Why not? It’s not like she did anything for us! And now apparently she’s putting you and probably Kai in danger-”

Every cabinet in the room slammed open as their latches released. Simmons shrieked. Caboose and Wash moved, putting themselves between Tucker and the others.

“I won’t go back,” Tucker said, voice shaking. His marks had reacted to his fear, glowing bright enough to show through his clothes. They turned to him, and Donut sucked in a sharp, surprised breath.

“Tucker…” Simmons said, and Tucker took a step back. He couldn’t, he couldn’t, he _couldn’t-_

_“I won’t go back in the dark.”_

And he did the thing he did best, and ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My discord has read "playing: murdering wash" for almost a week


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said i was gonna talk more about Wash's new-u in this chapter? I lied. It's all dialogue and backstory and sequel set-up. and prequel set up.

Tucker sealed himself in the greenhouse for three days.

He spent that first day terrified, in the brightest spot in the greenhouse, geared up to run. He still had Wash’s pistol in his boot. He was still covered in blood.

He heard furious screaming, muffed by distance, in Caboose's voice. Tucker had never heard Caboose raise his voice in anger.

Footsteps outside the door, soft and measured. Tucker wondered when he'd memorized the sound of Washington's steps.

 _“I trust you,”_ Washington had said once, the first person to ever say those words to him. He hadn’t said anything before taking a bullet for him.

 _“Don’t leave me, too,”_ Caboose had begged, the only good thing Tucker had ever known, the only person he knew how to love.

 _“You sound like you're running from something. I get that.”_ Simmons had said, three years ago, on that first accidental call to Rat's Nest. 

Tucker fought down every part of him screaming to run and spent the next two days figuring out what to say and how to say it. Worst case scenario was they tried to turn him in anyway and Tucker had to kill them and disappear. Wouldn't be the first time. 

The morning of the fourth day, as Pandora slid into its dawn cycle, he slipped out of the greenhouse. Caboose was asleep in the hallway, half laying on Freckles. The skag grumbled, tilting his head to watch Tucker with one beady eye.

“Are we leaving?”

Tucker whipped around, finding Wash getting to his feet behind him. “What?”

“Caboose and I have been ready to go for a day and half,” Wash said. “Caboose said you aren't allowed to leave him.”

“I'm not gonna take him from his _boyfriend_ ,” Tucker hissed.

“It's okay,” Caboose mumbled, sitting up. Tucker's shoulders tensed with guilt- he hadn't wanted to wake him. “We talked. Donut wants you to feel safe, and if that means running again, he understands that I have to go with you.” Caboose smiled sleepily. “You need someone to remind you how to care about people.”

“I don't want to run anymore,” Tucker said softly. “I'm tired of running.”

Caboose _beamed_ , scrambling to his feet to pull Tucker into a hug. “Are you gonna tell them?”

“That's the plan.”

“You should shower and change,” Caboose said, but didn't let go. Tucker let him cling for a moment longer before gently pushing away.

Wash caught him by the hip before he took more than a step and spun him around to kiss him. Caboose gasped excitedly, but Tucker barely noticed, caught up in the feeling of Wash's arm around his waist.

Wash let him go after a moment. “Go. Whatever you need, I’ll handle it.”

“ _We’ll_ handle it,” Caboose pouted. “I was here first.”

Tucker laughed, because if he didn't he was going to cry. “The only good thing on Pandora,” he said to himself, and Caboose grinned at him.

The anxiety returned full force in the shower, and he was shaking with it by the time he reached the greenhouse again. He could hear the others inside.

He took a deep breath and pushed open the door. “Everyone shut the fuck up because I'm only gonna say this once. Yes, I'm a Siren, and if you so much as look at me in a threatening-”

“I'm sorry.”

Tucker's brain came to a screaming halt. “What.”

“Don't make me say it again,” Grif said. “I was angry. I thought, if there was another Siren, why wasn't she- why weren't they at New Haven? Why didn't they help stop it?” He shrugged. “I guess I expected Sirens to be, I don't know. Bigger. Metaphorically.”

“I can't be that,” Tucker said. He felt helpless, and he hated it. “I can't. I'm just…” He swallowed. “Just shut up and listen, okay?

“I was born on a backwater mining asteroid called Icaria. I don't know if my parents were part of it or if I was kidnapped or what, but I was raised by a cult called The Hands of Seraph, which is bullshit because seraph is singular.” He chewed on his cheek; he'd never actually talked about this, and it was hard. “I don't know if our powers are predetermined or if they react to shit, but I grew up with a lot of locked doors I wanted to open, and then I turned into a goddamned skeleton key.” Tucker shook his head. "That's my power, Grif. It's not flashy, like teleportation or pyrokinesis, but when I want something to open? It _opens_.

“Meanwhile, the Hands are using _me_ to terrorize the miners and their families in the colony proper.” The heavy weight of guilt settled on him. “They might have been able to fight back if the Hands didn't have an _actual fucking angel_ ready to bring down the wrath of God or whatever.”

“You were a kid,” Donut said, soft and horrified.

“And like a kid, I eventually told them no,” Tucker said. “And they shut me in a room, in the dark, alone. Locks can't stop me, but grown men three times my size who aren't afraid to hit kids sure can.” 

“If I ever find a way off Pandora,” Washington started, shaking and furious.

“You'll do what?”Tucker interrupted. “Because you're seventeen years late.” The others looked at him. “Do you think they just let me go? No. I decided I was done. I told them no and then before they could put me back in that _fucking room_ , I bolted. Found the first outer wall I could and prayed.” He smiled bitterly. “Turns out, if my powers can't find a door, they'll make one. I was just unlucky enough to pick a load bearing wall.

“By the time the dust settled, half the compound had collapsed and the other half was on fire. I spent the first hour of my thirteenth birthday wondering how many people I just killed.” Tucker pulled in a breath, held it, released. “A hundred and fifty-seven. I saw the count a few days later and three systems over.”

“When did you stop running?” Simmons asked. His voice was barely louder than a whisper. 

“I'm hoping today.”

Kai pulled him into a hug. It was a struggle, at first, to keep his marks from lighting and killing her, but she kept holding him. “You can stop. We'll help keep you safe. It's what family does.”

“I don't think I know how to do _family_ ,” Tucker said hoarsely.

“You'll figure it out,” Grif said. “Can… can we see them?”

Tucker extracted himself carefully from Kai's arms and pulled his shirt over his head. He bit his cheek again, then reached for the lightning in his bones until his marks glowed, the ones along his ribs visible through his binder. Useless, but pretty. He was his own nightlight.

“I understand why you leave all the lights on during the night cycle,” Donut said. “Oh, we should raid a bandit camp for their neon signs! I bet we could dismantle them and string the lights on wires all over the outpost.”

“You'd do that?”

Donut smiled, the burn scars on his face making it lopsided. “You shouldn't be afraid in your own home, even on Pandora.”

Home. Tucker had called Valhalla home before, but he'd never really stopped running. Part of him had always been ready to move again.

He was so tired of running. 

He managed a weak smile of his own.“I bet Karima in Overlook would have a few suggestions on how to take ‘em apart.”

Caboose cheered.

 

* * *

 

“Tucker!” 

The call was distant, but Tucker still scowled at the door. The hands making their way under his shirt stilled as Wash followed his gaze.

“Sounds important,” Wash said lightly. His fingertips crept higher.

“Sounds like it can wait until after you've fucked me,” Tucker responded in the same airy tone. He frowned. “This is all you, right?”

Wash pulled him down by his hair to kiss him. It was awkward, with the way Tucker was straddling Wash's hips, but Tucker still _really_ liked kissing. “All me.”

“Tucker!” The voice was closer, and identifiable. 

“God _dammit_ ,” Tucker said, getting down and crossing the room. He didn't even bother touching the door, just flashed his marks and let it slam open. “What, Simmons! What cannot wait _an hour_ for me to-”

Simmons skid past the door, Tucker lunging out to grab him before momentum carried him into a wall. “There's someone at the doors. He's shouting your name. Caboose wanted your okay before we kill him.”

“My name? My full name?” 

“Yeah, it's why we didn't just kill him on the spot.”

Could it- it had to be, but why was he so far from Lynchwood? Tucker bolted down the hall, ignoring both Wash and Simmons, and made it to the front doors in minutes. He _did_ smack into to them in giddy excitement, sparks jumping from his markings into the circuits of door. They had barely opened when he shoved through. 

_It was him._ “Sarge?” Tucker asked.

The old man tugged his hood back, eyes sparkling. “Look at you, son. You did find it.”

“Was there any question?”

Sarge snorted, then glanced behind him. “Inside, before anyone sees your arm.”

“The only people around here already know,” Tucker said, but pulled Sarge inside. The others had gathered, watching, hands on their weapons. Sarge nodded at them approvingly. “Why are you so far from Lynchwood? You told me four years ago the only way you were leaving was in a coffin.”

“That was before Hyperion moved in,” Sarge said. “I'd been waiting to get you off planet as soon as that bounty on Sirens hit the board, but you never showed, and now Jack has both of Pandora’s spaceports.”

“What?” Kai said. “No, he can't. The settlements need supplies from off-planet; Overlook and Fyrestone and Liarsburg aren't self-sufficient! They aren't part of his vendetta against the Vault Hunters!”

“What do we do?” Simmons asked softly.

“What Pandorans always do,” Grif said grimly. “Survive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ::staring tearfully at the "8/8":: that's the most beautiful thing i've ever seen.


End file.
